


The Care and Yeeting of Robins

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: And mostly played for humor, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Damian is the most portable Robin, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor, The Batcat is minor, There are lots of people being smacked in the face, yeeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 07:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17320907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Bruce comes home to find Jason in his bed. Jason refuses to move, so Bruce does what he has to in order to stand his ground and decides sleeping on the floor is the only option.





	The Care and Yeeting of Robins

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jerseydevious, Cerusee, Laquilasse, and the whole box crew for helping make this fic what it is.

Selina leaned against Bruce’s arm and sighed, “I’m so tired. I should have made you carry me here.”

Bruce hummed, and opened the door to his bedroom. Everything was normal except for the large lump in his bed. In the dim light it almost looked like a pile of clothes shoved under his comforter, only it was moving. The bedsheets rose and fell with the steady motions of someone breathing.

Selina tensed, and went to say something, but Bruce threw a hand out in front of her, shaking his head.

“You’ll wake them.” he mouthed.

Selina rolled her eyes at him, but stayed quiet.

Together, they crept up on the bed to determine the occupant’s identity. Dark tousled hair poked up and out of the blankets. Bruce gently tugged the comforter back to reveal glittering blue eyes and a familiar frown aimed at him.

“Jason.”

“Bruce.”

“What is going on?” Selina demanded. 

Bruce sighed, “I asked Alfred to switch the bed out in your room for a bigger one.”

Jason snuggled deeper into Bruce’s pillow, his cheek squishing against it, “I told him not to bother.”

This wasn’t the first time Bruce had come back to find his second oldest curled up in his bed. They’d realized that Jason’s childhood bed was too small for him to fit into the first time he’d come home to spend the night. Since then, Bruce had grown used to finding Jason curled up in his bed whenever he stayed over.

He hadn't minded. And wouldn’t if not for Selina. Jason should have known better. Jason did know better, and was willfully baiting Bruce.

“Your room’s free?” Selina asked, pointing at Jason.

“Yup. With a brand new big comfy bed in there and everything.”

“ _Jason_.”

Selina leaned over and kissed Bruce’s cheek, “We can and will sort this in the morning, but for now I’m going to bed, join me?”

“No.” Bruce said, surprised at his own answer.

He was tired, and he wanted his bed not Jason's 'new and comfy' one. He didn’t want to be dealing with this. But most of all? This was his room, he wasn’t going to be kicked out of it by the wiles of his second oldest. Jason thought he had Bruce? Well think again, kiddo.

“It’s my room. I’m not sleeping somewhere else.”

Selina rolled her eyes, “Men.” she turned to leave him there, “When sleeping on the floor becomes too much, feel free to join me.”

She left Bruce and Jason staring at each other.

She was right of course. If Bruce was going to make a point he couldn’t fall into bed next to his son. He’d have to stand his ground and take the floor. He harrumphed and snatched a cushion from the couch (where he also refused to sleep) and settled it under his head as he laid down on the on the floor beside the bed.

Above him, he heard Jason stifle a laugh and then the bed sheets ruffled. A moment later, a blanket smacked Bruce in the face.

“Don’t catch a cold, Old Man.”

Bruce grumbled as he unfolded the blanket and shook it in the air over his body so it settled on his feet. He tugged one end up to his chin and closed his eyes stubbornly against the hardness of the floor. He’d slept on far worse, the last time being only a few weeks ago. This would be easy.

It took twenty minutes for Bruce to decide the blanket would be better under him than over him. The warmth it gave him was being seeped second by second from the wood floor at his back and he’d much rather it not. Jason had to have fallen asleep at this point because he didn’t make a peep at Bruce’s shuffling. Neither did he comment on the single swear Bruce uttered when he crashed his elbow against the floor while shifting things around.

It was then that he started to wonder how he’d found himself in this position. Alfred told him often that his hard head would get him in trouble, he’d just never thought it would happen in quite this way. Being pushed out of his own bed and sleeping on the floor next to his stubborn son (who was he kidding, _all_ of his children were as stubborn as he was) had not been part of the plan for the evening. He’d wanted to be snuggled up next to Selina, warm and comfortable and, most of all, sleeping.

It took another twenty minutes for the door to creak open. Bruce’s mild hope it was Selina come to rescue him was first squashed by the slowness with which the door opened, and then by the tiny form that slipped in.

Damian tiptoed over to the bed, apparently not noticing Bruce at all. For his part Bruce had no idea what to do. This was new territory for him. What was he going to say to his youngest? Would he admit that he’d be beaten by Jason and forced to sleep on the floor? That was mostly a lie. It had been Bruce’s own stubbornness that put him on the floor, even if Jason’s had been the initial cause. Still, any word on the matter was sure to cause a fight and Bruce was simply too tired to deal with pulling two of his sons apart right now.

It was with a mind rushing to come up with a plan that Bruce allowed Damian to make it all the bed and climb in. At this point, he realized he was far too late to do anything.

The chaos started with Jason’s, “What the--”

“Todd?” came a sleepy, baffled, voice next.

“No. No way. Your dad’s not sleeping in this bed and there’s no way you are. You’re getting yeeted.”

“Jason,” Bruce warned. “Do not yeet your brother.”

“You will not yeet me, Todd.”

Bruce heard sounds of a scuffle start up on the bed. His back was hurting from the floor, even with the cushion of a blanket. He had a feeling standing might increase that pain. Especially if standing meant pulling his kids apart. They’d figure things out eventually, right? Jason wouldn’t really throw Damian out of the room after he’d come in after a nightmare would he?

A nightmare was the only explanation for Damian’s arrival on a night he’d known Selina would be in the house. It was one of the exceptions to the ‘leave Bruce and Selina alone’ rule. He would not deny his son comfort if he needed it, and had made that very clear to Damian.

“Faaather!” Damian yelped as the bed creaked and footfalls smacked against the floor.

It was like watching a train wreck he couldn’t look away from as Jason stomped to the door in long strides, swung it open wide, and tossed Damian out. Bruce winced hearing the heavy thump of his youngest landing outside. Jason then slammed the door shut and flicked the lock into place while bitter swears issued from behind the door.

He flopped back into the bed, shaking it and the floor Bruce laid on.

“Jason Peter Todd.”

“I didn’t see you getting up to rescue him. Besides he’s fine. He’s a ninja.”

There was a beat before, Jason added, “How did you know what I meant by yeet?”

“I didn’t. It was your tone that gave you away.” Bruce lied.

He did in fact know the word yeet. He’d been unfortunate enough to learn it in the cave one day while working with Tim. Tim had been tweaking some smoke bombs for a maximum release rate when he’d suddenly shouted, “This bitch empty! Yeet!” and chunked one of the metal orbs away from him.

Bruce’s skull ended up on the receiving end of the throw. He’d missed Tim’s stunned face as smoke went off in his face. Still, he had clearly heard the “Oops, I guess not.” It was a memory he was unlikely to forget any time soon.  

“Doubtful.” Jason said in a tone less sure than he’d be if he could have seen Bruce’s face.

Bruce didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. He knew his children too well to assume Damian would leave things as they were. He also knew that Jason wouldn’t hesitate to try something else if Damian returned. Another scuffle would break out, and when it did he would be ready. No more mister mopey Batman for him, he’d take his rightful place on the bed back and Jason would be forced back onto the floor or couch. And if Damian wasn’t concussed or in a tree by then, Bruce would happily invite him to snuggle close.

It took exactly five minutes from the disappearance of Damian’s angry voice behind the door to Bruce’s window slipping open quietly. Not quietly enough it seemed, since Jason also caught onto the sound and climbed out of the bed.

Bruce sat up and watched with undisguised curiosity as his second oldest crouched just below the sill and waited for Damian to climb inside. Damian was either too tired or too upset at Jason to bother actually checking for his brother, and dove straight for the bed the moment his feet hit the ground.

Jason snatched his brother out of the air and spun him back out the still open window with a screeching, “Yeet!”

Bruce took his opportunity and slipped into his own bed, the sheets still warm and rumpled from Jason’s occupancy. He snuggled into the blankets and prepared himself for Jason’s wrath. Now that he had the bed, he would not give it up. He would be as immovable an object as he needed to be to make sure Jason knew he would not be removed again, let alone yeeted.

“No, come on.” Jason’s voice was exactly as exasperated as Bruce expected it to be.

He did not expect 239 pounds of son to land on his chest in a single flop.

“Oof.” Bruce said.

“‘S wat you get.” Jason said.

Bruce felt that wasn’t exactly fair. He hadn’t thrown anyone out of anything that night. Let alone thrown anyone twice. He hadn’t even thrown any thugs through windows. Selina hadn’t wanted to deal with all the glass. All he’d done was reclaim his rightful place.

“Jason get _off_.” He pushed at his son who’d somehow become the immovable object Bruce had intended to be.

“No.” Jason said, and somehow managed to become heavier. By pure spite if Bruce had to guess.

“Oof.” Bruce wheezed.

“My bed.” Jason said, and snuggled his face into Bruce’s chest.

Bruce immediately stopped trying to push Jason off. What was being able to breathe to his son willingly snuggling?

He did shift slightly to get part of Jason off him and allow his lungs actual room to expand. He got one full breath in before Damian returned. With a Valkyrie cry, he launched himself onto the bed and Jason’s back.

The air he’d regained whooshed out of Bruce’s lungs in a second with the addition of another 110 odd pounds of furious son.

“Damian.” he wheezed (Again. Bruce was doing a lot of wheezing tonight, and was simply grateful that no one had gotten a lucky punch to his lungs on patrol or this would be far more than simply uncomfortable.)

“Damian!” Jason shouted.

The sound of hands slapping started, and the lump on top of Bruce shook, shaking him in the process. Someone kicked him in the face.

It really was too late for all this.

Damian rolled off Jason and hit the bed beside Bruce’s face. Bruce sucked in a lungful of air.

“Damian.” he said by way of greeting.

“Father.” Damian returned.

“Jason!” Jason added.

Bruce sighed.

Damian flipped himself over and burrowed first under the blankets, then shoved Bruce’s arm up before snuggling against his side, a content lump of warmth. Jason shifted as well, moving so he was laying across Bruce’s chest, but not suffocating him further.

“Goodnight boys.”

“Goodnight.” Damian yawned.

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” Jason said.

* * *

 

Dick stepped into a surprisingly quiet manor early the next morning. Alfred had tipped him off to Jason’s spending the night and he didn’t want to miss the opportunity for a family breakfast. To make sure that happened, he was going to wake his brother bright and early.

He opened Jason’s door without knocking, “Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!” he shouted.

Two things happened in that next moment. The first was that Dick realized it was not Jason in the bed, but Selina. The second was a slipper flying at his face, and striking his nose with alarming aim for a woman only just awake.

“I’m so sorry!” Dick said, holding both hands up, “Please don’t throw anything else. I thought Jason was going to be here?”

“He is.” Selina answered, her tone icy.

“But not in here?” Dick asked, pointing a finger down at the room.

“You can ask your idiot father where he is.”

That explained some things, but not everything. Dick had a feeling breakfast was going to be even more interesting than he’d first imagined.

“Okay.” he blinked, “Cool, I’ll just uh, leave you be.”

He backed out of the room and closed the door carefully. He headed off for Bruce’s room. While he was on his way he passed Tim, wrapped in a robe with coffee in hand. He looked far too delighted for this time of morning.

“Hey, Timbo. Have you seen Bruce or Jason?”

“Not since Jason threw Damian out Bruce’s window last night, no.” Tim said.

“Jason did what?” Dick squeaked.

“Technically it was the second time he threw Damian out something, but I missed the first go around so I don’t have a lot of details. I didn’t want to get involved since I figured I’d also be thrown out a window if I attempted to intervene.”

Dick blinked at him.

“Anyway, they’re probably all still holed up in B’s room, so I’d head there.” Tim saluted him and continued on his way.

Dick did find all three in Bruce’s room. Damian and Bruce were still snuggled on the bed, all but wrapped up in the comforter, while Bruce snored lightly. Jason was shrugging into one of Bruce’s robes, his hair tousled and slightly wet.

“Did you really throw Damian out the window last night?” Dick hissed.

“Chill.” Jason said, “The kid’s fine.”

“It’s a second story window, Jason.”

“He’s an assassin baby, he’s _fine_.” Jason seemed to pick up on Dick’s incredulity and rolled his eyes, “Don’t believe me? Ask him, he’s been staring at us almost since you walked in.”

With that he flounced out of the room, tightening the robe as he left.

Green eyes blinked at Dick from the bed. Dick sighed and made a come here motion. Damian eased his way out of the bed, careful not to jostle his father too much and followed Dick out of the room.

When the door was closed behind them, Dick immediately dropped to a knee and started to check Damian for injuries.

Damian pushed his hands away with a scoff.

“I am fine, Richard. I rolled into the landing.”

Dick stood up sighing. Some days he wasn’t sure he wanted the entirety of context for what his family did.

Damian hooked an arm through his, “Father will be down soon. If we wish to have breakfast without too much chaos I suggest we get started now.”

Dick allowed himself to be led downstairs and to the breakfast table, already populated by Jason and Alfred.

“Good morning Master's Dick and Damian.” Alfred said.

“Morning Alfred, morning Jason.”

“Good morning Pennyworth. Todd.”

“Dick. Gremlin.”

Damian (because of course it would be Damian) was the one to break the peace at the table, despite him warning Dick of impending chaos. Jason had a stack of butter and jellied toast on his plate, and instead of taking a fresh piece from the basket Damian pulled two slices from Jason’s stack.

“Yoink.” Damian said, grinning at Jason.

Jason reached for them, but Damian shoved both in his mouth and bit down.

“Too late.” he said around a mouthful of bread.

“Brat.” Jason muttered, taking another two slices from the basket to replace them.

Damian swallowed and dropped his spoils onto his own plate, “It is simply revenge for last night.”

Now Dick really didn’t want to know the full details of the evening. Sometimes oblivion really was bliss.

Tim and Cass filed in with little fanfare. Duke found his sleepy way to the table, apparently clueless about the night before as Damian and Jason continued to stare daggers at each other.

Bruce finally shuffled in. He was unshaven, with his hair looking like a localized tornado had hit it. He looked a little lost until he caught sight of Damian and Jason at the table sitting in relative peace. Dick watched a small smile flit over his tired features as he took in the rest of his family.

“Morning.” he grunted, snagging the pitcher of coffee to fill his mug with. He took a swig before ladling eggs onto his plate.

A chorus of mornings repeated across the table and Dick watched the smile get just a bit bigger.

Then a slipper flew across all their heads, smacking Bruce’s face and dropping into his eggs with an audible splat. From what Dick could see it was the pair to the one that had hit him in the face earlier.

“Morning, Cat.” Bruce said, poking his fork into the eggs not currently covered by slipper.

“Bat.” Selina said, all peace now that she too had apparently gotten her revenge.

Dick settled into his own breakfast and grinned. There was nothing like a day with his family.


End file.
